


Shattered

by Fallen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, emotional angst, father and son moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 19:15:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/530755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallen/pseuds/Fallen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starts out as a crack, you know like the one that a stray pebble can cause to your windshield? It’s just a tiny crack, so you don’t pay mind to it because come on, it’s just a small crack, you can ignore it cause maybe it won’t get any worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered

Starts out as a crack, you know like the one that a stray pebble can cause to your windshield? It’s just a tiny crack, so you don’t pay mind to it because come on, it’s just a small crack, you can ignore it cause maybe it won’t get any worse. Then you hit a pothole and the crack spreads, but hey no biggie, the windshield is still good no reason to call to get it replaced just yet. You don’t tell your dad because you know he’s going to make you go to someone who will make it all better, so you continue to drive. Then you hit another bump, then another, and another, the crack spreads and small bits are starting to break off, but the glass is still intact. The only problem is, now it’s starting to get harder and harder to see what is in front of you. But hey, you made it this far so why not keep going, it’s not like it’s completely broken. If it’s not broken why fix it? Everything was fine.   
  
Just when you begin to think about asking your dad for help, you gotta figure that the damage is bad enough as is, your dad isn’t going to be too happy about it, let’s keep it to ourselves a little longer. Besides, despite the spider web of cracks you can still see the road in front of you, even if it’s becoming more and more obscure with every bump. Time passes, you’re used to it now, keep going. Sure there’s the unsettling feeling that you might accidentally crash because of it, but the fear becomes familiar, it’s almost easy to ignore.   
  
And then it happens.  
  
You hit one too many bumps and everything shatters. It falls apart, now you’re exposed to everything, every rock, every bug, and there is glass everywhere and there is no way you can put the pieces together. Could keep going, like you have been doing for the last few months, but why? What’s so bad about sitting there and thinking about every little bump, every rock, everything that led up to the glass shattering, let it play over and over in your head. Allow the guilt to settle in and the fear that no matter what, you still have to go on, have to make it back home. Except, you know the glass is broken and it’s too late to fix now, no more chances to repair all the damage.   
  
Sure, in a days time the windshield is back up, brand new and untarnished. Only, the broken glass is still there, it still shattered, you can pretend to be a different person, but the truth is you’re still that broken panel of glass.  
  
…Maybe he’s been sitting in the car for too long.  
  
Still, Stiles doesn’t so much as twitch to leave the car. The light above the front door is still on, Stiles knows that his dad could be found in the living room, hopefully having fell asleep waiting up for Stiles. Before he left, he told his dad that he was going over to Scott’s, to see if he was alright after the lacrosse game. After all the lies he had been feeding to his dad these past few months, it was almost painful how easily his dad bought this one too. He scrubbed a hand over his face, jerking back forgotting about the molted bruise on his cheek until the pain flared up.  
  
  
A slow steady stream of air blew past his lips before he opened the car door and made his way to the front door. Despite the door’s age, it didn’t make a sound as he pushed it open, he could see the bright light and the hear the quiet hum of the television from the living room. He briefly glanced at the stairwell, considering going to his room without a word but decided against it. Stiles expected to see his dad slouched on the couch, fast asleep, not for him to be sitting up straight and awake.  
  
“Dad?” he called quietly, just in case he managed to learn how to sleep with his eyes open, frankly he was surprised that his dad had not mastered that skill yet. The sheriff jerked upwards, twisting around to look at his son who was standing in the doorway. “Why are you still up?” Stiles asked, just before he left his car he saw the clock reading off that it was past three in the morning.   
  
  
His dad rolled his shoulders, putting the television on mute “Couldn’t sleep, what about you? I thought you would be staying at Scott’s for the night.” Stiles hesitated to go any further, thinking that he could get away with a quick excuse. He tapped his foot, his dad raised an eyebrow at him and like that made the decision for him, Stiles made his way towards the couch and dropped himself into the worn cushion next to his dad.  
  
He shrugged, “Decided not to, figured he’d want to be alone for a while.” not really a lie, well come on, it wasn’t. Half truth. His dad’s eyes searched him for anything that would give away anything that would not support that answer.  
  
“Stiles,” he started, “I know you’re sick of hearing this, but are you sure you’re alright?” Stiles could feel the words ‘I’m fine’ already forming on his lips, his dad must of known what was coming because he held up a hand, “These past few months, a lot has been going on and that I don’t know half of it. I don’t know why you won’t tell me and I hope that someday you will, but you can’t keep telling me that you’re ‘fine’ Stiles. I know you’re not and I just,” he stopped, “You have to give me something here son, as much as you don’t want to, you just..” he trailed off. The Stilinski males weren’t known for their ‘share your feelings’ moments.  
  
  
“Dad…” what was he supposed to say? ‘I’m fine’ had become a mantra that played over and over in his head since the whole werewolf fiasco began. But, that’s the great thing about those two simple words, he could say them as much as he wanted and people would  believe him. Sometimes, when every thing was going to hell, it helped knowing that there was someone who thought otherwise. And if you said it enough times you can trick yourself into believing those words too, as messed up as it sounded, it helped him keep going. If everything was ‘fine’ then why stop?  
  
He fidgeted, keeping his eyes focused on his hands, “I’m sorry.” he said, still keeping his head down, “Having me as your kid can’t be easy, hell I know it isn’t.” a brief laugh void of humor escaped him, “I keep pushing you to eat healthy and I’m the one who’s killing you.” he laughed again, word vomit was so much fun. An ache was starting to build up in his chest coupled with tightening. His breathing hitched. No, he dug his blunt nails into his leg, he was not going to have an attack, he had been pushing them back all this time, he was not going to let himself give in now.   
  
A hand pressed down between his shoulders, “Stiles you don’t actually think that, do you?” Breathe in, breathe out, don’t look up, the hand moved up to his shoulder, “After your mother,” a stutter in his breathing, “Having you, it made it bearable, this past year I have gotten more grey hairs than I care to admit, but don’t think that, don’t ever think that.” his dad leaned forward, trying to see his face, “Hear me?”   
  
Stiles’ eyes flickered over, meeting his father’s gaze, then nodded. The pressure on his chest faded some, enough that the weight in his chest was no longer painful, “Thanks dad.” another breath, “For what it’s worth, you pull off the salt and pepper look.” he teased lightly.  
  
The eldest Stilinski huffed a laugh, tugging Stiles towards him. He let himself be pulled into the side embrace, “Even if I go bald, I’ll still be around for you kid, though I would like to have some hair when I’m in my eighties.”   
  
He knew what his dad was getting at, try to be safe, don’t get into anymore of these crazy teenager shenanigans. Well, his dad probably wouldn’t use the word ‘shenanigans’ but Stiles was paraphrasing here. “I’ll try.” he wasn’t lying, not this time. Sure, Stiles could hope that everything would be better from now on, but things could get so much worse, that he knew way too well. Though, he looked at his dad, nothing was definite, not yet at least, “I’ll get you a wig if I have to.” his dad shook his head, “I’ll make sure it’s one of those really nice ones too, custom made so it doesn’t look like a possum decided to play dead on your head, no one will be able to tell.”   
  
  
The look he received clearly meant that the joke was over, he grinned, it came easily and without force. “If you’re not tired yet, you could go get the chips I know you’ve hidden in the kitchen and we can watch some classics.” his dad suggested. Honestly, Stiles felt drained but if he could get a chance at what used to be defined as normal in his life, no werewolves or crazy hunters? He was going to take it.  
  
  
Glass shatters, whether it’s because you hit a rock, a deer decided to play chicken and lost, or some kid playing professional baseball player hit a ball through it, almost everything breaks at some point in time. Even if people really are not made of glass, the two are comparable, both can be fixed, it is only the length of time it takes is what sets them apart. Even then, once everything is repaired, it will never be the same as it was before, it’s only the knowledge that you can not let things get that out of hand again that lasts with you, but that does not necessarily mean that you will abide by this lesson. That is completely up to the person.  
  
 Though, Stiles thought tossing the bag of secret stash chips on his dad’s lap before sitting back on the couch, if he could get more times like this? Where everything felt normal, no fear or anxiety? Normal? Then that was enough reason to move forward with the knowledge to stop before it puts this moment in peril. Without a goal, then what reason is there to keep going when you can just sit there and dwell on what led up to everything breaking apart?  
  
  
“Don’t eat the whole bag.” Stiles warned snatching the remote, “Gotta keep in shape if you’re going to chase down the bad guys.” he turned the volume back on, a familiar whistled tune began playing. He smirked at the grunted reply as the bag was torn open.   
  
  
Yeah, this was a reason to keep driving.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Who can't write write, Fallen can't write write. 
> 
> As you can tell, I ran out of steam near the end of it. 
> 
> Must. Get back into. Writing.


End file.
